


Ghostly quotes

by itsthebat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, an emo ghost may i say, but klance is the main pairing, eventually the squad gets together, have i mentioned keith is a ghoST, i hate him, it has a happy ending okay dont worry, keith is a ghost, lance is still a lover boi, lotor is only mentioned okay, theres shallura also, this is an au obvs, what else do u want
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-28 17:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15054203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsthebat/pseuds/itsthebat
Summary: When Lance and his family move to Fenwick, he doesn't expect to find a pretty ghost and so many mysteries to uncover.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! I have the entire story written already, so I'll update it every week I think?? It'll have fifteen chapter more or less! Anyways I hope you enjoy this!!

Lance hates this house.

            The wood floors creak every time someone as much as moves a pinkie and the pictures hanging on the walls—of old men and women, every single one of them wincing and with grey hair and pointy eyes—are creepy as hell, and there’s a hole in the wall of his bathroom that makes it impossible for him to shower because, who knows, maybe someone is peeking.

            And it’s only been a _day_ since they moved here. Lance can’t even think about living here for the rest of his life—it’s not that he intends to, because he’s already eighteen and he’s pretty sure that next year his family is going to be able to pay for university, but that means he has to live here for an entire _year_. How’s he going to do that?

            He didn’t even sleep. Not even when his little brother and sister came to his bed because they were afraid of _the shadows creeping outside the window_. Lance thought he heard footsteps when he was dozing off, and from then on he couldn’t even close his eyes anymore.

            “Lance!” his mum calls over the sound of one of his siblings crying. “Get up and help me, please?”

            Lance groans into his pillow. He’d hoped he could sleep a bit when the sun came out, because at least that way he could see his killer before he stabbed him. He picks up his phone and reads his messages, most of them—well, all of them—from Hunk.

            00:00 how are u?

            00:02 are u dead yet?

            00:10 I’m sure it’s not that bad.

            00:29 are there any ghosts?????

            00:43 maybe the ghost is a cute girl who knows?

            Lance grins and writes a quick reply before getting up, because his little sister is still sleeping by his side and he is sure that if he doesn’t get her downstairs his _mum_ is going to stab him. Multiple times. She’s not even going to be a good mum and kill him quickly, she’s going to leave him bleeding out, slowly and painfully.

            But before getting his sister downstairs he’s going to wash his face, because he’s sure he looks like hell. He winces when he looks into the mirror, because he has purple bags under his eyes—it looks like someone has punched him; maybe one of the ghosts used to sleep on his bed and Lance stole it from him—and his hair is messy and he should definitely consider shaving right now.

            Sighing, he splashes water against his face and, when he looks again into the mirror… it isn’t him.

            For starters, he’s white. Like, completely pale. His hair is longish and pitch black and it contrasts a lot with his skin. He has bags under his eyes too and is looking at Lance with big, dark eyes, as if this were the most surprised he’s ever been. He’s not wearing any shirt and there’s a huge ass scar in his chest. He doesn’t move.

            Lance clasps a hand over his mouth, trying not to scream because _holy shit_ there’s someone in his _mirror_. And he should get out of here, he should get out of this house and never come back but before he can do any of that, the boy opens his mouth and says loud and clear, “Each time you say hello to a stranger, your heart is acknowledging over and over again that we are all family.”

            “What the fuck,” Lance mumbles, stepping away from the mirror. “What the fuck is—who are—”

            He looks as the boy smiles. Creepy, but a smile nevertheless. He repeats, “Each time you say hello to a stranger, your heart is acknowledging over and over again that we are all family.”

            “What does that even _mean_?” Lance shrieks. The boy pouts, and this has to be a dream. Lance has to be sleeping. And if he’s not, this is sleep deprivation—he’s been awake for more than twenty-four hours, and now he’s hallucinating. Because there’s no way someone inside his mirror is saying nonsense.

            “Each time you say—”

            “I heard you the first time,” he snaps, closing his eyes. This isn’t happening. This _can’t_ be happening. His brain is messing with him. When he opens his eyes again, the boy is gone and Lance can only see himself in the mirror. As if there was never anyone else there.

            He stares dumbly at the mirror until his mum calls again. Then he snaps out of it and gets the hell away from it.

* * *

 

Lance spends the rest of the day thinking about what the boy said.

            Okay, who does he want to fool, he’s been thinking about the _boy_. He doesn’t eat anything for breakfast, and he gets out of the house as soon as he can—he goes to the grocery store—he almost hits a cat, so distracted he was—and then he goes to the butchery and he goes to the mall to buy Veronica some new clothes and diapers.

            And he can’t stop thinking about the boy in his mirror. He knew there were ghosts in the house, but Lance didn’t expect to find someone so _soon_. He wonders how he got the scar on his chest or why was he so pale, though that probably was simply because he was a ghost. Maybe he was just angry because Lance stole his bed.

            But he didn’t look angry. He even smiled and then looked sad when Lance didn’t get what he was saying. _Each time you say hello to a stranger, your heart is acknowledging over and over again that we are all family_ , what does it mean? Does it even mean something?

            Maybe he was trying to communicate with Lance. Maybe he was trying to say something.

            Lance can’t help but think how cute the ghost was, even with his long, messy hair and tired eyes and creepy smile.

            When he’s finished buying everything his mum asked him for, he sits on a bench and pulls out his phone. He texts Hunk:

            18:56 hey.

            18:57 you know what does “ _Each time you say hello to a stranger, your heart is acknowledging over and over again that we are all family_ ” mean?

            Then he looks up the house he now lives in on the Internet. There aren’t many things about it, because that’s just his luck: it doesn’t even say who lived in it before, not even a name. The house is full of pictures of old people, so that has to mean something. Whoever lived there had to be important. Lance only has to dig deeper.

            He takes a bite of the sandwich he bought just as Hunk answers:

            19:04 it’s a quote from Suzy Kassem. Why?

            Instead of saying something, Lance googles the name. She’s an American writer from Ohio and she doesn’t look like she’s very famous; she’s written like, one book and only has 125 followers on Goodreads. However, Lance still doesn’t know what this woman has to do with the boy in his mirror. He texts Hunk again.

            19:10 what do u think it means? The quote?

            While he waits for something, Lance tries to think. He’s sure that the keywords are _stranger_ and _family_. The stranger can be the boy, and the family can be Lance’s, but that doesn’t ring any bells. Maybe the boy was trying to say that they shouldn’t be in the house? Maybe he’s trying to warn them before it’s too late—maybe the one that scarred him is coming for Lance and his family.

            Lance has a little heart attack when his mobile beeps.

            19:17 I think it means saying hello to someone you don’t know. Like, someone is saying hello to a stranger and that automatically makes them family? I dunno man, where is this coming from?

            Lance stares at the text for a second, realizing that Hunk is right. _Hello_ is also a keyword. Hello, stranger and family. “Fuck,” he mumbles, because now he knows what the ghost meant.

            He meant to say _hello_.


	2. Chapter 2

 After realizing what the ghost wanted to say, Lance sprints back to the car.

            He almost forgets the bags with all the things his mum asked him to buy, but after running back to fetch them, he drives home. He tries to stay focused on the road, but it’s almost impossible. It’s like his brain can’t stop reminding him. Hello, hello, hello.

            It’s stupid, being this excited, because Lance is 89% sure that the boy is a ghost trapped in his mirror, but he can’t help it. Now that he’s almost certain that the ghost isn’t going to murder him in his sleep—though maybe there are other ghosts that _do_ want to murder him, but Lance is trying not to think about that right now—he really wants to see him.

            He smiled and looked disappointed when Lance didn’t understand him. Maybe the ghost just wants a friend. And, hey. Having a ghost as a friend wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

            When he gets home, he’s alone. It takes Lance a minute to remember that his mum was going to visit some school to talk to the principal about the kids, so she must still be there. Which is good, because now Lance can scream all he wants without anyone thinking that he’s gone bonkers.

            “Ghost?” he calls, going up the stairs. “Are you there? I know what you meant before!”

            When he gets to his room he runs to the bathroom, gets in front of the mirror, but there’s no sign of the boy. He spins three times and tries to call the ghost, but apparently, it doesn't work like that in real life. “Hello to you too,” Lance says then, a little bit too loud. Maybe the ghost is in the basement and can’t hear him. Which would be too bad, because there’s no way Lance is going to the basement—maybe this ghost is friendly, but everyone knows what happens when you go to the basement.

            Hint: nothing good.

            “This is rude,” he mumbles, sitting on the toilet. “Before you almost gave me a heart attack, and know that I’m asking for you, you ignore me?”

            Maybe he really was hallucinating this morning. Lance was tired and sleep deprived and looked awful and his brain mixed it with the thought of ghosts; Lance had been thinking about ghosts the whole night, so it wouldn’t be too strange. And maybe someone posted a photo on Instagram with Suzy Kassem’s quote and that’s why Lance knew about it.

            There. A logical explanation. Lance would have believed it if it weren’t for the ghost standing right in front of him, dragging a hand down his face. Lance gasps, and the ghost rolls his eyes and grins. Lance wonders how many people he’s made gasp.

            “Each time you say hello to a stranger, your heart is acknowledging over and over again that we are all family,” the ghost repeats.

            “Hi,” Lance says, dumbfounded. He notices two things: the ghost isn’t in the mirror, and he’s now wearing a black shirt. He also has his hair tied in a bun. “Who are you?”

            The ghost shrugs. “The question ‘who am I?’ is not really meant to get an answer, the question ‘who am I?’ is meant to dissolve the questioner.”

            Lance stares at him for a while, trying to figure out what the heck does that mean. Come on. _Come on_ , he already guessed what the quote from this morning meant, and now this? Can’t he just _answer_? “Do you have a name?” he tries.

            He looks like he’s thinking. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling and his tongue is sticking out of his mouth. He looks kind of cute. When he finally looks at Lance again, he says, “If I’m gonna tell a real story, I’m gonna start with my name.”

            “ _What_ ,” Lance mumbles. The ghost shrugs, pouting. “Where do you get these quotes from?”

            The ghost points a finger to his head. “You make them up?” He shakes his head, points to his head again. Then he disappears. Puff. _Gone_. And Lance wants to scream, because he’s never met someone, ghost or human, so _rude_. First, he scares the shit out of him, then he speaks in riddles and now he just disappears? What’s wrong with him?

            “Ugh.” Lance goes back to his room, jumps into the bed and is about to text Hunk when the ghost comes back. He’s carrying a book. Lance isn’t even surprised. “What’s that?”

            The ghost grins, and Lance finds himself thinking that he has a pretty smile. For a ghost. He opens the book and pretends that he’s reading. After a second he looks at Lance and points to his eyes, the book, and then his head, which Lance thinks translates to read the book, remember.

            “So you remember the quotes?” he asks, getting to a sitting position. The ghost nods fervently. “Can you only speak with famous quotes?”

            “The sad truth is…” he says, “that most of my husbands turned out to be convincing liars.”

            Lance stares at him with both eyebrows raised, trying to think what the flipping fuck does that mean, when the ghost laughs. “Oh, so you make jokes now, do you?” he says, trying not to look too stupid.

            The ghost has a pretty laugh too. He’s pretty altogether, really, and Lance thinks that he should be concerned that he’s thinking about how pretty a ghost is.

            When he stops laughing, the ghost says, “The truth is the truth is sad.” And then he shrugs.

            And Lance is about to ask him a million questions because, first of all, he’s a _ghost_. A second, he can only speak with famous quotes. Someone like that has to have an interesting backstory for sure. He doesn’t have the chance to ask, though, because a door opens and then his mum is shouting, “Lance! Are you there?”

            He looks at the door just as his sister comes into the room; the ghost is gone. Lance sighs and shouts back, “Yeah! What’s wrong?”

            “Come here! There’s a man who wants to ask something and I have to get Marco out of the car!”

            “Coming!”

            While he walks down the stairs, Lance wonders who can it be. They just moved here, and the normal thing would be someone passing by to say hello—or to bring some cake, Lance would be cool with that too—not someone wanting to _ask_ something. Maybe it’s some tourist who’s lost. Or a neighbour who wants to ask for some eggs or flour. If it’s that, they are going to be very disappointed, because Lance doesn’t think they have eggs nor flour.

            “He’s over there,” his mum tells him, carrying his sleeping brother in her arms. “Be nice,” she adds, glaring at him.

            “I’m always nice,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. He keeps wondering about the guy outside, and his hopes of him being eighteen years old too vanish when he sees him. He looks about twenty-something, a scar across his nose and a white streak in his hair. He looks anxious. “Um. Hi.”

            He’s biting his lip so hard it starts bleeding. Lance winces, but the man doesn’t even seem to notice and he smiles instead. “Hello, I’m Shiro. I, uh. I know this is going to sound weird, but have you seen my brother Keith? He’s about your age, black hair, dark eyes, a little shorter than you?”

            Oh, so he’s lost his… eighteen year old… brother. “No? I mean, no I haven’t, sorry.”

            Shiro deflates. “It’s just that he really liked to come to this house, you know? Before you moved here. And I thought that maybe he’d… come. I don’t know. Thanks anyway.”

            He turns to leave, but Lance stops him putting a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you could give me your number? If I see him, I’ll call you. Oh, I’m Lance, by the way.”

            Shiro smiles sadly. “That would be nice, I guess.”

            That night, before he completely dozes off, the ghost appears again. He whispers in Lance’s ear, “A friend loveth all times, and a brother is born from adversity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3


End file.
